


jon needs the eye just to be chill uh oh spaghettios :(

by taylor_tut



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fainting, Gen, Minor Injuries, Sick Character, Sickfic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26788420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: Just a slightly deeper dive into Jon and Martin's time at Salesa's house during MAG181. :)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 147





	jon needs the eye just to be chill uh oh spaghettios :(

Martin doesn’t see much of Annabelle, even despite the fact that they’re sort of living together, in a strange way. He’d thought it was strange when Salesa had said the same, during their introduction, but now, living it, he completely believed it. Jon hates it, he knows, but Martin thinks it’s sort of funny. Her presence, or, rather, absence, doesn’t feel sinister: it feels more like living with a goth teenager than anything else; only seeing her when she emerged to eat something and mutter spooky things to herself. 

In some ways, she reminded him a lot of Jon in the days after Sasha had been replaced. Perhaps that’s why Jon can’t stand her. 

Martin had left Jon upstairs, sleeping, to come down to the kitchen for tea when Annabelle scurries in. She freezes for a moment, but straightens up when Martin only raises an eyebrow to her. 

“Hi,” he greets casually. He doesn’t bother to ask her what she wants: Annabelle will say what she wants to say, and no more, precisely when and how she wants to say it. 

What she says is, “I don’t think your Archivist is feeling very well.” There’s no sympathy in her voice, but no malice, either. It’s an observation and nothing more. 

“Yes, he’s been, er, well—” he stops. Jon might not want him to share anything personal, and it’s not his information to give. “He’s very tired.” Vague, and nothing she hadn’t already known. 

She rolls her eyes. “Cut off from the Eye, more like, and weakening.” 

Martin presses his lips together. “That, too.” 

“Well, if you already know, that’s fine, then,” she shrugs. “But do make sure he doesn’t make a mess.” 

Martin blinks. “A mess?” 

“Yes, the blood?” 

He’s on his feet immediately. “Blood?” he demands, already rushing back upstairs before she can answer him, not bothering to look to see if she’s following. 

Martin throws open the bedroom door to a scene that is much less dramatic than what he’d perhaps been expecting. Concerning, sure, to see Jon collapsed next to the bed, bleeding from a small cut on his head that appears to be from where he’d hit it on the floor, but it’s not exactly the bloodbath he’d been dreading. 

“Jon,” he calls worriedly as he drops to his knees beside him. It’s not the first time in the past few days Jon has fallen from a dizzy spell, but he’d not yet fainted from one. Jon groans when Martin taps his face lightly, then buckles in half, clutching his head when he’s aware enough to feel the full pain of it. “Hey, hey,” Martin soothes softly, “you’re alright. Breathe.” 

His breathing does eventually slow, even if it’s still a bit uneven from the pain. “M’alright,” he reassures hollowly, taking Martin’s offered hand tightly. “Ouch.” 

“Oh, love,” Martin can’t help but laugh slightly, “I know. Dizzy again?” Jon nods, hums a soft affirmative. “I figured as much. Did you faint before you fell, or after you hit your head?” 

It takes several beats for him to answer. “I fainted?” 

Martin sighs. That’s been happening, too. He’s distant, fuzzy. Things keep getting deleted, and Jon will be left with only the general feeling of a hole in his memory that his always overactive mind can’t help but prod like a child’s tongue to the gap of a recently-lost tooth. Jon won’t say it, because he wants Martin to spend as much time as Jon can bear in this relative comfort, but it’s making him crazy. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Martin says gently. “How’s your head?”

Jon groans. 

“I’ll get ice,” Annabelle offers, surprising both of them. Martin had forgotten she’d been there, and Jon had yet to notice. 

“No,” Jon mutters at the same time that Martin says, “thank you, Annabelle.” 

She leaves, anyway, and Martin isn’t sure whose request she’s honoring. 

“I shouldn’t have left you on your own,” Martin frets, smoothing Jon’s hair as he sits up with some assistance, slowly, to see how he tolerates it. Not well, if the fluttering of his eyes is any indication. “I figured I’d be back before you woke up.” 

“I don’t want her helping,” Jon ignores. “Not when I can’t… can’t do anything.” 

Martin rolls his eyes. “You really ought to lighten up,” he says. “Has anyone ever told you that?” Jon laughs, because they both know the answer. “She came and told me you needed help, and now she’s getting ice. She’s helping.” 

“You’re smarter than that, Martin.” 

Martin frowns. “That isn’t a compliment,” he accuses, “and yes, I am. Just because I--just because I don’t think she wants to kill us imminently, doesn’t mean I trust her. I’m just saying you’re--I mean, you’re not exactly impartial, either.” 

Jon nods, though it might just be because he’s too tired to continue arguing. “Fair enough,” he concedes, and yeah, it’s definitely because he’s too tired to keep arguing.

“You should get some more sleep,” Martin suggests. Jon’s spaced out again. “Jon?”

‘Hm?”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

Jon leans heavily against Martin to walk the short distance, and does not protest as Martin tucks him under the covers. 

“It won’t help,” Jon reminds him, and Martin nods. 

“I know. We’ll leave soon. I’ll get us prepared to go after dinner.” 

A look of… sorrow, maybe, or is it remorse? Guilt? Grief? It’s so hard to know how Jon feels about anything, these days. A strange and upsetting look crosses his face. 

“You don’t have to… with me. I can. Alone.” 

Martin presses a kiss to his temple. “Just rest some more. I’ll be ready.” 

Because Martin is always ready to move on precisely when someone needs him to be.


End file.
